A Mother's Duty
by willofthering
Summary: Dís watches over her youngest son as he fights a raging fever. She will not give up hope. Set before the quest when Fíli and Kíli are children.


**Author's Note: So this little story popped into my head and I actually wrote it! Dís is such a fascinating character that I couldn't help myself. I took some liberty with filling in some blanks for the sake of the story. I'm not sure about dwarf ages so for the purposes of the story Kíli is the human equivalent of 4 and Fíli is around 9.**

Dís was made of stone. She was as strong as the mountain where she was born. Bending was not in her nature. Her story was one of loss for she had lost many things in her years; a home, a brother, a father, even a husband. She had grieved for them all, but she never bent. Now she could feel her foundation quaking. When the dragon stole her home she had not felt this much fear.

The wind howled outside. The fire crackled in the hearth and in the late hours of her longest night, she watched. Dís bore silent witness to each struggling breath of her youngest, her smallest boy. Kíli was so small. He had always been, just a fragile child so easily damaged. He had strength though for one so small. She had seen it at his birth, too early for most to survive. He had clung to life than with such fierceness her own heart had grown tenfold when she heard his first cries.

Dís watched his breaths and felt his pain as any mother would. Kíli's cheeks were bright red with fever, a stark contrast to his pale face. His dark hair, wild as ever, framed his delicate face. Each breath rattled in his small chest.

Thorin had put Fíli bed hours ago. He had offered to sit with Kíli. To let her rest. But there was no rest for Dís that night. Oín had shaken his head. There was no more he could do for the lad. It was up to Kíli. Dis had hated Oín for a moment in her proud heart. Her son was the Line of Durin. Strength was in his blood and he was made to endure. She would not doubt him. For if she did, she would crumble.

But he was so small.

The illness had started so innocuously. A cough. Was it just a day ago when Kíli had been chasing his brother about the house? Both boys climbing onto their uncle as Thorin roared in laughter at their antics. Her two boys were all that could make her brother laugh. Thorin was too haunted by memories of the past.

Kíli was Fíli's shadow. Though Dís had never known a shadow to shine as bright as her youngest son. His light was so dim now.

Kíli whimpered in his fevered dream, a soft sound that tore Dís' soul to pieces. He hadn't waken for hours, too far in the throws of delirium to recognize those around him. That cough had turned so quickly. He cried in her arms at first, a barking cough shuttering his slight frame.

"My head, mama! My head!" He had cried in deep hiccuping sobs as she uselessly rubbed his back waiting for Thorin to fetch a healer. Fíli's presence had done nothing to soothe him and Dís feared that Fíli would be susceptible to whatever had befallen her youngest.

That was hours past now. Dís slid next to her child on the bed, pulling him close to her and shushing his fevered cries. He stilled in her arms, heat radiating off his tiny body. With him so close she could feel his labored breaths.

Dís studied her boy's face, taken aback like so many times before at his striking features. His eyelashes were long and dark. Dís wished for his eyes to open. His eyes were his father's. They were the same soulful brown that she had first seen in her husband face. Kíli's face was Frerin's though. He was so alike in appearance and joyful spirit to the brother she had lost.

She had often thought that she had lost both brothers the day Frerin had fallen. Thorin returned from battle but he was not the same. Joy had been stolen from his heart and he wrestled ever since with the great weight of the crown he did not possess. Her sons were now the only ones who could pull Thorin from his great sadness. Their laughter was a soothing balm to the soul and Dís would catch glimpses of the brother she had once known in Thorin's eyes. She knew he saw in them a hope that he had feared was lost. For Fíli was is heir and Kíli a second gift.

She knew Thorin longed to reclaim Erebor, but Dís thought less of Erebor now that she had her sons. They had completed her. Fíli was ever eager to please and hardworking to a fault. Even now he bore the burden of his future with grace and thoughtfulness. Fíli's devotion to Kíli made Dís' heart swell with pride. He was ever watchful. Sometimes she looked into his blue eyes that mirrored her own and saw a soul much wiser than his young years staring back at her. Grief aged all beyond their years and Fíli had already known much grief. She would protect him from it if she could.

And Kíli was her gift. He was joyful and clever, always asking questions. He tempered Fíli's seriousness, making him just as enthusiastic in their playing. What they would without the other she couldn't bear to think.

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but Dís held them back. She would not despair, not while there was still hope left.

Kíli's chest still rose and fell; each breath sounding more ragged than the last. His lips parted gasping for air. Then silence. In a heart wrenching moment that seemed to stretched on for hours, she felt him still. Dis held him tighter.

"Return to me," she whispered, dreading that he would not. She feared her youngest child would be stolen from her just as so many others in her life. Hadn't she given enough? Hadn't she earned reprieve?

Kíli coughed and Dís was able to breathe again. His ragged breaths filled her ears and she had never heard anything more beautiful. Kíli clung to life and Dis clung to him.

The hours ticked by. Dís found no rest that night as she listened intently to Kíli's shallow breaths. Each breath a hope proving her son's life. Her eyes grew weary but she would not sleep. She would not fail in her duty. Dís held her son until his heat lessened, his breaths grew stronger, and the rays of morning light stole into the room.

He stirred in her arms.

"Mama?" He asked in a mere whisper.

"Yes, love?" She answered.

"Thirsty."

Dís poured a glass of water for him from the pitcher on the nightstand. She helped him hold the cup to his lips and set the cup back when he had finished.

She turned back to him. He blinked wearily, as if the movement alone was draining. His dark hair was wild, but everything else about him was tamed and subdued. She touched his face, encouraged to find the heat that had burned beneath his skin the night before gone.

"Thank you," he said, though if he was thanking her for the water or for staying with him through the night she could not tell. She had always thought that Fíli was her old soul, but looking at Kíli's dark eyes she saw a depth she had never noticed. She had always been so blinded by his smile. Now, his eyes were all she could see.

Dís kissed her son's forehead and pulled him back into her embrace. Yes, her son was strong.

She heard her Thorin's footsteps fall heavily and echo down the hall. The door opened cautiously and Dís watched delighted as the dread on his face melted to joy. Kíli stared sleepily at his uncle, who's eyes were now brimming with tears. She knew what he had feared to find this morning. Thorin matched Dís' smile.

Fíli's golden head emerged moments later at the door. His blue eyes sparkling when his gaze set on his brother.

"Kíli!" He cried with a smile as bright as the sun. He scurried towards the bed and crawled into Dís' arms to be beside his brother.

She needn't protect Fíli from grief today. Today there was only joy.

Dís looked down at the two boys she held her arms, one golden head and one dark. She knew she held the very pieces of her soul. In her sons she found more value than all the gold of Erebor. Fíli and Kíli were her treasure and to have them safe and whole was all that she desired.

She glanced back up to her brother, his eyes shining in relief, and smiled. Dis closed her eyes and was finally able to rest.


End file.
